


I Don't Like It

by lieforfun



Series: Dadchesters [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Dean is a hoarder, I just want more dad stuff, I've had this idea in my head for so long, Jack being Jack, Jack is a BABY, Other, Protective Sam Winchester, Shaving, This Is STUPID, sam is a fucking dad, someone has to teach him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 11:44:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieforfun/pseuds/lieforfun
Summary: Sam stumbles onto a very flustered Jack, and decides to be a good Dad and teach the poor child how to shave.





	I Don't Like It

**Author's Note:**

> I just want more dad stuff. It's really just a fluffy, unbeta'd piece of shit I vomited up at 1 am because I want more dad stuff. I have had the scene of Dean teaching Jack how to shave, but I just couldn't do it right. But I've never written a fic with Sam as one of the Main People before so I figured I'd try that out. Enjoy.

Messing about in Dean’s room was not exactly Sam’s favorite pastime, but occasionally, it had to be done. Sifting around in the surprisingly teenager-like messy bedroom, Sam huffed to himself in annoyance when coming across what looked like a moldy plate of pizza and a TV remote without the batteries.

See, Dean had become somewhat of a packrat, since moving into the bunker. Sam reasoned that it had something to do with the fact that Dean was never allowed to have more belongings than what could fit into a duffle bag for most of his adult life, and that being able to hoard things _and stuff_ in a room that was entirely his was therapeutic for the older man, however it made Sam’s life incredibly difficult when Dean would take things that did not belong to himself to his bedroom and hide them.

Maybe it wasn’t on purpose, and maybe he wasn’t intentionally hiding them, but all the same. Sam would have to sneak into the dragon’s den to steal his items back when Dean was not home.

In this case, it was a watch that Sam had received years before from one of the people they helped. It was a relic of the ghost they had sent on that the daughter had owned since her father died. She didn’t want it and offered it to Sam who gladly took the item. It was worth well over $500 and Sam had been pretty sparse on money considering the only thing Dean thought was worth using real cash on was beer. And there he was, sorting through piles of clothing and random items strewn about haphazardly around the room looking for a said watch.

Suddenly, there was a crash and a startled cry that sounded like it came from the bathroom a few rooms down. Sam immediately went on alert- Cas and Dean were supposed to be on a hunt in Ohio, it would be at least a week before anyone would be back in the bunker. The last time Sam had seen Jack was the night before, on the first floor in the theater room obsessively watching The Walking Dead into early hours of the morning.

Habitually, Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. He slowed his movements, so they were virtually unnoticeable, and began to stalk his way to the bathroom in question. Several more startling sounds burst into the hallway, filling the air with indecipherable grumbling and small gasps. Once he was finally in front of the small room, the door swung open with the strength of at _least _three men.

“Sam!” Jack’s startled voice shouted, stumbling back a step.

Sam bent over and threw a hand over his heart, trying to sway the dizziness of an almost heart attack. “Jesus Christ, Jack. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Jack said sheepishly. Taking a closer look, Sam noticed his face.

Stubble looked as though it was growing only just a bit over the soft lines of Jack’s face, making the young man look much older. Logically, Jack was only 2 years old, but the body he wore was of a boy in his early twenties, Sam was still taken aback at the stark change. Looking even closer, Sam began to chuckle.

“Are you trying to _shave_?” Sam asked with a grin, clipping the pocketknife shut and shoving it back in his pocket.

Jack’s face reddened as he turned to look anywhere but Sam’s face. “Yeah…”

There were patches of bald skin in spots on Jack’s chin, upper lip, and spots over his cheeks. There were even a few cuts that had stopped bleeding, one right over his lip.

At Sam’s silence, he continued. “It just started growing! I watched Dean shave once, I thought I could do it. But it’s really hard and I don’t like it.” He stated, very matter of factly.

Sam chuckled again. “It’s hard to get used to. Here, let me help.”

Sliding into the fluorescent-lit bathroom and taking up the metal blade, he began to explain.

“First thing you do every time, is get some alcohol and pour it on the blade to make sure that it’s sterilized.”

“Alcohol?”

“The ninety-nine percent kind, not the drinking kind.”

“Oh.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at @portionsofpoetry or on twitter at @Marieaneliese


End file.
